


Pret-a-Partenaire

by nqdonne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clubbing, Coming Out, Community: hd_holidays, Elevator Sex, First Time, Humor, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nqdonne/pseuds/nqdonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the sandwich joints in London, he had to walk into Harry's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pret-a-Partenaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [floweringjudas (manipulant)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulant/gifts).



> Written for the 2007 summer round of hd_holidays (pre-DH release fest round). 
> 
> Despite being for an H/D fest, of which I was a mod, this fic features some serious Percy love. In my Percy OTP heart, this would have ended with Percy/Harry (GASP). To the now-reading-reader... I say you can interpret the end anyway you want, with any pairing you want! 
> 
> This fic also features an excess of my London love, primarily for Pret-a-Manger and Starbucks. While I can't confirm whether both are Wizarding chains IRL, I can say that all statistics and information mentioned were accurate in 2007!

The first time Harry saw Draco Malfoy at Pret-a-Manger, sitting at a corner table eating a sandwich, he merely told the cashier in a low voice to make it for take-away, dropped three pound coins into his palm and walked back out, for once thankful for the busy lunch crowd. He took his tuna mayonnaise back to the Ministry and ate at his desk, cursing the poncy git for infringing on his favourite lunch spot. 

He made a similar retreat the next day, having arrived an hour later than the day before in the hopes of missing him, but, no - there Malfoy was, munching idly at a front-and-central table, oblivious to Harry's shock and outrage. He was so disoriented he grabbed the first sandwich on the shelf and was later dismayed to find it was egg salad, which he loathed. Harry spent the rest of the day in a foul temper, cursing eggs, healthy eating establishments with limited seating, and Draco Malfoy. 

Then, thankfully the weekend arrived and Harry took the time to fume over said Pret-situation and, in the end, resolved to show that wanker Malfoy that no one took over his local Pret-a-Manger. Especially not stuck-up, rich arseholes who could not only afford something a bit pricier, but who hardly needed the made-fresh-and-healthy food, considering he never seemed to gain an ounce. How the hell did someone who worked in the finance department manage that? Harry worked in the Magical Games and Sports Department, played with the office Quidditch league twice a week and occasionally walked to work, and yet he'd put on ten pounds at least since he started working there. 

On Monday when 1 p.m. rolled around, Harry marched down to the Pret down the street at his preferred lunch time, determined to show Malfoy who was King of the Pret-a-Manger castle. He chose his sandwich (BLT and a bottle of Pomegranate Power), paid for his food and grabbed a table along the back wall, so he could survey passing traffic. Harry eased open the sticker on his sandwich box and pulled the two perfectly-cut triangles forward, sprinkling salt over the slices, before grabbing onto one of the halves with both hands. Before he could open his mouth to take that first delicious bite... he looked up found himself staring wide-eyed with his mouth gaping open at Draco Malfoy, who smirked, pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. 

"You do realise it defeats the purpose of eating a healthy sandwich if you're just going to douse it in salt." 

Harry narrowed his eyes to slits. "Go away."

"It's a public restaurant."

"There are other seats."

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly. "This is fine."

"No it's not – I'd like to enjoy my lunch in peace."

"We don't have to talk."

"Or you could just go away," Harry ground out, glaring at him moodily, sandwich still poised halfway to his mouth.

"Why so hostile, Potter?" Malfoy tutted, ripping open his own sandwich box and taking a bite of his - Harry squinted at the box – hummus and vegetable sandwich. "You'd think someone who eats alone every day would appreciate some company."

"How do you know I eat alone every day?"

"Oh, everyone knows. You come here every day and spend the entirety of your lunch hour eating these so-called healthy sandwiches, which you summarily ruin with loads of salt and a packet of crisps to go along."

Resigned to the fact that if he waited for Malfoy to leave he'd never get to eat, Harry bit into his sandwich fiercely, not even bothering to chew or swallow properly before he spoke. "And why the _hell_ would Draco Malfoy, pureblood bigot poster-boy, want to eat at a Muggle sandwich shop, hmm?" Harry took a long drag on his drink and slammed the bottle down on the table, eyeing Malfoy in challenge.

"Muggle? Ha!" Malfoy snorted. "This place isn't Muggle, Potter. Do you think Muggles could manage to stock each of these places – at least 80, 90 in central London – with fresh sandwiches of all this variety every day _and_ maintain such high dietary standards?"

"Um, yes?"

"Rubbish. It's a wizard-owned business, staffed by house-elves. I'm amazed you didn't know this, considering the hard-on you have for this place."

Harry frowned. "Bugger off."

Malfoy simply eyed him warily and continued making work of his sandwich. "Do you know," he said thoughtfully a minute later, "in all the years we've worked together, we've never had a proper conversation."

"We don't work together. We work in the same building in separate departments of an organisation of more than a thousand people. That doesn't count." Harry took an aggressive bite of his BLT. "And this isn't a proper conversation."

"Then what is it?"

"An annoying little buzzing in my ears, ruining my lunch."

Malfoy simply smirked and kept going. By the end of the meal, Harry knew all there was to know about Wizarding business strategy, organic farming and the negative effects sodium had on one's well-being. It was going to be a long week.

***

After several days of lunch with Malfoy, featuring the same back-and-forth annoying banter-slash-small talk, Harry decided to change his routine a bit. That Friday, Harry skipped lunch, and instead headed to the closest Starbucks for a 3 o'clock coffee and scone break. As he sat down at a table with his caffè latte and apple cinnamon scone, he heard the voice he'd grown to dread. 

"Did you know there are now over 300 Starbucks in Greater London?" 

Harry looked up, surprised and more than a bit annoyed to find Draco Malfoy standing over his table holding a grande-sized drink. 

"Oh?"

Pulling out a chair, he plunked himself down next to Harry.

"That's more than any other coffee shop, including those chains indigenous to Britain. Bloody American corporations. They're taking over London."

"Um, sorry?" Harry offered resignedly, then sighed. It seemed Malfoy was becoming a permanent fixture of his afternoons. He might as well make an effort to carry on conversation. "So what are you drinking?" Harry pointed to Malfoy's cup.

"White caffè mocha. I don't actually think there's any coffee in it. It's just white chocolate and sugar. It's amazing. Like sex."

"A Starbucks drink that compares to sex?" Harry snorted. "Ha! I'll believe it when I see it."

"Try some." Malfoy slid the cup across the table, looking smug.

Harry warily accepted the proffered drink, and took a measured sip of the mystery concoction. As sweet, rich pleasure slid over his tongue, he moaned soft and slow – it really was amazing.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned under his breath, then checked himself, putting the cup down hastily and slipping back into his haughty demeanour. "I mean, it's okay, I guess." He coughed, and saw Malfoy raising a single, self-satisfied brow at him.

"Told you. Like sex."

He wished Malfoy would stop talking about sex. It sent Harry's mind straight to the gutter. And he didn't care how annoying the git was, he was perfectly attractive and his mind was wont to run away with things. He needed to change the subject. "And let me guess, this place is run by wizards, too."

"Of course it is! How do you think they inspire such a sycophantic following in coffee drinkers? The coffee is shit – present drink excluded, though, again, I question the actual amount of coffee in it – and over-priced and the atmosphere more than a little faux, and yet they remain the most successful coffee chain in the world. Mind, the addictive potion has long since been phased out, but the long-term affects are still there."

"Addictive potion?" Harry eyed him sceptically.

"Oh, yeah, Starbucks was started by a group of less-than-ethical wizards who used unregulated addictive potions and wide-spread Imperious charms to inspire customer dedication. The management was phased out after the war, so now they're very people-friendly, but there's a reason people think of it as an evil empire – it used to be. I should know. Father was a share-holder."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Listen, Malfoy." He took a swig of his now comparatively lacklustre coffee. "I know you haven't been shadowing me for weeks because you want to talk about business models and coffee. What's up?"

"What do you mean?" he said evasively, suddenly becoming far too engrossed in the lid of his coffee cup.

"I'm not stupid - why, all of a sudden, do you want to be all buddy-buddy with me. We've never been friends, no matter what you say, we _don't_ work together...what gives?"

"I, um..." Malfoy looked unsure a minute, trying to come up with an explanation, but then his mask of uncertainty fell and he cursed. "Oh blast. All right, fine, _yes_. I have... ulterior motives. You happy?" 

Harry smirked triumphantly and thought he heard Malfoy mutter "bastard" under his breath.

"Okay, so what is it? You need a favour? Event endorsement? What?"

"Oh, don't be so full of yourself." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's more... sensitive than that." He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. "You like...boys, yes?"

Harry almost laughed. The way Malfoy said it, he might as well have said _'You're an axe murderer, right?'_ But the look on his face was so serious, Harry decided to play it straight, so to speak.

"I don't make it a secret, no. I do. What's the point, Malfoy?"

"Well, how?"

"How do I like boys?" Harry parroted back at him.

Malfoy just kind of shrugged half-heartedly and Harry tried again not to laugh.

"Well, I like them naked, spread beneath me, with pretty, round-"

"That's not what I meant!" Malfoy shrieked, drawing the attention of several nearby tables. This time Harry did laugh, great big guffaws that eventually turned to silent laughs as tears sprung to his eyes.

"Potter, shut up!" Malfoy leaned forward and smacked him hard on the arm.

"Ow!" Harry rubbed at the now sore spot and frowned. "Fine, fine. What do you mean, 'how do I like boys'? I just do."

"Yes, but you're so...open about it. That's just not done!"

"Oh God, is this going to be a lecture on Wizarding etiquette? 'Cause I already got this speech from the Ministry public relations team. Several times. I don't care what your sodding culture says. There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Exactly! It's not done." Malfoy was nodding enthusiastically, as if they were agreeing on some point. Harry was confused.

"I'm confused."

Malfoy sighed, took a sip of his coffee, then made a face as it had apparently gone cold. "Listen, I...well, you see...it's just." He stopped for another deep breath. "I think I might...be like you."

"Like me?"

"Yes."

"In what way, exactly?" Harry questioned, decidedly more confused than ever.

Malfoy let out a throaty sound of disgust. "Oh for Christ's sake, you dimwit! Queer!"

"Oh! _Oh_. And you're coming to me for, what? Advice?"

"Yes! You know how to, _you know_."

Harry tried not to laugh and put on his most serious face. "Have sex?"

Malfoy flinched. "No! I mean, sure, but no! I mean you know how to be gay. Like boys."

"It's not that hard, really. Frankly, if you think you're queer, you're probably already half-way there."

"Yes, but how do I meet guys? What do I do if they want to... do things?"

"Um, do things back? Everyone loves a little reciprocation." Harry grinned cheekily. 

"Don't be a prat. I'm serious."

"So am I," Harry said behind a giggle, then forced himself to get serious at Malfoy's angry, rather put-out expression. "Listen, it's not nearly as complicated as you make it out to be. It's just like with girls - finding someone you like, hoping they like you back, making a move and maybe it'll work out."

"It is _not_ just like with girls." Malfoy pouted. "There are thousands of girls, whereas you're the only queer I know."

Harry half-snorted, half-laughed. "Oh, that's ridiculous. There are _tonnes_ of queer wizards, including at the Ministry."

"What?! How do you know?"

"Well, I've dated some of them, for starters. Or just shagged them. Some of them came on to me after I'd come out. Others I can just tell. There are also...establishments one can go to to find our kind. It's not as super secret as you think."

"Establishments? Now you're just kidding me."

"No! There are clubs, most either on the edge of Diagon Alley or down at Clandestin Alley . Wizards may not be as out and proud as Muggles, but there are certainly queer factions. Enough that I wouldn't have to sleep with the same bloke twice if I didn't want to."

"I still don't believe you." He was looking at Harry as if he'd sprouted a second head.

"I'll show you, if you want."

"Really?"

"Sure. Tonight, if you want. There's free cover if we go before ten. We could get there early, ease you in slowly, so to speak."

Malfoy suddenly looked nauseated. "I don't know..."

"Oh, come on. It won't be so bad. I'll be there the whole time, and you won't have to do anything you don't want to. It's the closest we'll get to gay wizarding counter-culture that you can actually _see_."

Malfoy edged back in his seat and tapped his fingers absent-mindedly against the table. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Harry sighed and looked at the man in front of him, who looked scared and somewhat sick. "It's not easy when you first figure it out. It doesn't matter if I think you're a self-centred, annoying git. You're in the same boat as me in a way." And Harry didn't really have any friends who were gay, and he saw in Malfoy someone he could cultivate to be so...but he didn't say that. "So, shall we? I promise I'll protect you. People say I'm rather heroic when I want to be." He grinned and winked, and Malfoy couldn't help but laugh.

"Fine. But I have absolutely nothing to wear."

***

Knobs and Broomsticks was probably Harry's favourite club, of all the (three) gay wizarding clubs in London. It was right in the middle of the spectrum - not too dull, like the jazz and poetry-centred Swish&Flick, but also not as intense as Spank, where all the fetishists hung about (including several ex-Death Eaters, so it was a good place for Harry to avoid for more than one reason). But Knobs played good music and the cocktails were tasty, if a little over-priced. 

It also had a rather nice back-room area for those who were inclined. It was a bit on the skanky side, but better than popping off into the loos (though Harry had done it before) and perfect for when all you wanted was a quick, dirty shag in the dark. In fact, when Harry had first started experimenting with being gay, right after the war, sick with grief and confused, he'd come here every night to be fucked into the wall by some stranger. It was not only cathartic, being helpless and taken, but rather helpful in answering the queer question, as it's hard to deny you like cock when you've got one spearing you open and you're moaning for more. Harry reckoned Malfoy could use an experience or two on that level, though he wasn't going to throw him to the wolves just yet. This first night, he'd keep him close, as the regulars could smell fresh meat all too easily.

They sat at the bar, Harry nursing a funny, blue-hued drink, whilst Malfoy sat beside him on a chrome bar stool, posture rigid, hands fidgeting over equally fidgety knees. He looked as if he could have kittens.

"Relax, Malfoy! There are only about fifteen people here - and no one's accosting you yet."

"Yes, yet! Oh God!" He started wheezing.

Rolling his eyes, Harry signalled to the bartender. "You need to drink. A lot." The bartender fixed up a the same drink Harry was having, finishing it off with a quick flourish of his wand, which lit the thing up bright white before fading to the wild blue. "Keep these coming. Some Firewhisky shots would be grand, too," Harry smiled at the rather fit bartender, who winked back at him. If he weren't chaperoning Malfoy, he'd have popped back to the back stalls with this bloke in a heartbeat. Though, well, if he got Malfoy drunk enough, maybe he still could...

Malfoy downed the drink in one go, making a sour face as the alcohol and magic burned down his throat. "God, what is that?"

"Liquid courage. You need to get out there, start dancing."

"But, like you said, there's no one here yet."

"Yes, but by the time you're sufficiently lubricated, so to speak, there will be plenty of blokes on the dance floor."

"I have a high tolerance for alcohol, so good luck."

"Bullshit - you're so slight I bet it would only take a few drinks."

"Ha! Low blood pressure. Takes longer to absorb." He eyed Harry in challenge.

"We'll see. Hey - take a shot." Harry indicated the two shot glasses the bartender had just dropped off.

Narrowing his eyes at Harry, Malfoy picked up the proffered shot and gripped it hard between forefinger, index finger and thumb. His expression set an unspoken challenge that Harry was more than happy to accept. He knew he could hold his drink exceedingly well, and he needed Malfoy to get drunk and loosen up anyway. He grinned in response and picked up his own shot glass, counting down from three before they both drank after one.

Malfoy's eyes glinted with the challenge and the alcohol and Harry realised this would be easier than he thought.

***

The bartender's mouth was hot and tight round Harry's prick and he thanked all the gods and alcohol for getting Malfoy worked up and distracted enough on the dance floor to allow Harry to sneak off for a quick one-off. Harry had had to _drag_ Malfoy out onto the dance floor and spend the first three song rotations focussing his energy solely on loosening Malfoy up before he would dance with anyone else. And Harry always got so _hard_ dancing, pressing himself up against a firm arse or two, or four, so when the bartender zeroed in on him and inclined his head towards the back of the club, Harry had made sure Malfoy's back was turned and slipped off. And, oh, was it worth it: not only was the boy eager, but he'd offered to take a couple Galleons off Harry's tab for the privilege of swallowing his cock. Being famous did have its benefits.

"You know," the boy rasped as he withdrew himself from Harry's cock. "I'd wipe the entire tab if you were to take me home with your friend. Fuck me while I fuck him. My shift ends at 2." He looked up imploringly at Harry, licking his lips and simpering at him.

 _Malfoy?_ Harry tried rather unsuccessfully not to flash on the image the boy's offer conjured up and had to remind himself that Malfoy had been officially gay, oh, a mere twenty-four hours, so it wasn't a good idea to wrangle him into a threesome just yet. "Err, sorry - my, um, friend is a bit new to the scene. So it's just me on offer tonight, I'm afraid."

"Too bad." The bartender shrugged. "You still owe me ten Galleons then." Leering up at Harry, he licked his lips and went back to sucking him, going at it with such fervour, Harry came within a minute.

"Ah, fuck," Harry choked out, his hips jerking forward as he rode out his orgasm.

"Hopefully," the bartender said cheekily, pulling back from Harry as he wiped the last remnants of come from his lips. "Remember, I finish shift at two." He sauntered off, back towards the front of the club, presumably to serve more drinks.

Harry followed once he'd cast a Cleaning Spell and tucked himself back in. As he waded through the now bustling dance floor, he suddenly found a bony figure clutching to him rather desperately. Before he could shake him off and tell him to mind his fucking own, he looked down and realised it was Mafloy. Flushed in the face, hair sweaty and sticking in all directions, Malfoy looked a fright and his expression was similar.

"You left me!" he shrieked in Harry's ear. "You left me out there with _those people_!"

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to dislodge Malfoy's clammy hands from his waist. He'd left him for _twenty minutes_ and last he'd checked, Malfoy had been rather happily occupied with a fit ginger bloke. "Malfoy, you're fine."

"I am not fine!" he continued dramatically, holding ever tighter to Harry, his step a little unsure in his still-drunken state. "I've been accosted! By men in tiny, tiny shorts. I felt their _things_ , Potter."

"Men do tend to have those," Harry dead-panned.

"Just please don't leave me again," Malfoy buried his head in Harry's shoulder and Harry couldn't help but sigh at the pathetic display. He was clearly going to have to invest more effort than he had previously thought, as Malfoy was unlikely to throw caution to the wind and go off with a bloke. Gazing wistfully in the direction of the bar (and the bartender), Harry steered Malfoy in the opposite direction, toward the exit.

"Come on, let's get you out of here. I think this is enough for your first night being a gay."

"'m not gay, just curious," Malfoy mumbled against his shoulder as they left the dark, sweaty sanctuary of the club and stepped out into the chill air.

"Uh huh," Harry said, mock-placatingly. "And that's just your curiosity poking me in the hip." He shifted against Malfoy's burgeoning erection as he lead them to a safe Apparition point. At least he'd just come, so there was little risk of scaring Malfoy off with his _thing_.

"Shuddup, 'ts just a natural reaction," Malfoy slurred grumpily.

"Yes, for a gay man," Harry laughed. "Come on – I'll have to take you back to mine. You're too drunk to Apparate on your own, and I have no idea where you live."

"Are you trying to take advantage of me?!" came the drunken accusation, as Malfoy pulled away from Harry, tried to point an threatening finger at him and promptly fell on his arse at the sudden loss of support.

"No, you idiot," Harry muttered between curses, bending down to help Malfoy back up. "Trust me, I've had much better offers for the evening, but instead I'll be spending it with you, moaning on my couch as I shove hangover potion down your throat. You'll probably vomit all over the place too. My idea of a fun Friday night, trust me."

"Bleerrrggh."

That was all Malfoy could manage before pitching over and vomiting all over Harry's shoes.

"Oh, fucking grand." Harry looked dejectedly down at his soiled shoes and trouser bottoms whilst trying to balance a sick and swaying Malfoy against his side. He said the spell to initiate Apparation, all the while asking himself over and over again why the hell he'd agreed to this.

***

Harry woke to a series of loud, anguished moans, and the feel of lumpy couch poorly cushioning his aching spine. So much for making Malfoy sleep on the couch. Kicking his feet over the side of the sofa, Harry grimaced as his spine tweaked as he rose to a sitting position. Harry made his way into his small kitchen and fetched the batch of hangover potion he'd brewed the night before, while Malfoy was giggling about how funny erections were and demanding Harry make him a cheese souffle. Turned out he was a whiny, girly, giggly and sick-up drunk.

He found Malfoy flung spread-eagled over the bedspread, head tilted to the side and smushed into the pillow as he moaned. 

"Good morning sunshine," Harry said as cheerfully as he could manage, as he walked across the wood flooring and set the hangover potion and a glass of water on the bedside table. 

"Turn off the fucking noise," Malfoy muttered into the pillow.

"If you drink what I just brought you, there will be no need to moan and groan so much."

Malfoy turned his face towards Harry's voice, eyes squinted against the brightness of the morning. He eyed the glasses sceptically. "Are you trying to poison me?"

"Trust me, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it last night, after you vomited on my best shoes."

"I didn't vomit on you. I don't vomit."

"Oh? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you did."

"I haven't thrown up since I was eight."

"There's a first time for everything. You definitely did."

Malfoy screwed up his face with annoyance, eyeing the hangover potion. 

"Whatever," he muttered, before reaching clumsily for the glass, which he nearly knocked over before Harry grabbed it himself and put it into Malfoy's searching hands.

"Drink the water after. I'll be in the kitchen," Harry instructed him before turning and leaving the room. He grinned as he heard Malfoy shriek 'this is vile!" behind him.

***

Harry had a simple but hearty breakfast of toast, muesli and bacon on the table and ready to eat by the time Malfoy shuffled out of the bedroom, dressed in Harry's dressing gown no less, moaning about his head.

"I feel like I've been hit by the Knight bus," Malfoy bemoaned as he plunked himself down at the table, turned his nose up at the bacon and helped himself to the muesli. Harry thought he heard him mutter "no wonder you've blown up like a balloon," but chose to ignore it.

"It's not my fault you refused to drink any water last night. Takes care of the hangover before it starts, you know."

"Let me guess - a tip you got from Granger," Malfoy said dryly, stirring a single sugar cube into his milky tea.

"Yep." Harry couldn't help grinning. "Complete with a full scientific explanation of alcohol's dehydrating effects on the body - a boring twenty minutes but it's proved useful."

"Whatever." Malfoy shovelled cereal into his mouth with one hand and massaged his temple with the other. "I want to die."

"It's only a hangover, you pansy."

"It's not that, you idiot," Malfoy snapped at him, then recoiled, wincing at the spike of pain the quick movement sent though his head. "I can't believe I did what I did last night."

"What? Got plastered off your arse and ran screaming from the first man you touched?" Harry teased, taking a tentative sip of his almost-scalding coffee.

"I didn't run screaming!"

"No, you just clung to me and cried."

"I didn't cry."

"Might as well have done."

"I'm not sober enough to do this," Malfoy groaned, eyes closed as his fingers massaged his forehead.

"Do what?"

"Talk to you." He cracked an eye open to look at Harry. "You know, for a dimwit, it takes a considerable amount of effort to carry on a conversation with you."

"Is that a compliment?"

"No," Malfoy answered wryly, and Harry couldn't suppress a grin.

"Well, listen... I'm really just teasing. I don't expect you to become a gay poster child over night. I guess a club was too much for starters. You need to start out slow, do some reading, go on a few dates."

Malfoy choked on his tea. "Dates?"

"Of course. Gay men generally go out with other gay men."

"But isn't it a bit...soon? I need a few years _at least_..."

Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy's dramatics. "Don't be ridiculous. We'll start you off nice and easy, set you up with someone harmless." Harry paused a moment to think over options. "Which really leaves us with the short list. Most of the men I know would eat you alive, figuratively speaking. It's just too rich that Draco Malfoy is a poofter!"

"Just about as good as Harry Potter being one, I'm sure."

Harry grinned wickedly. "Yes, they did rather have a field day, didn't they?"

"You really shouldn't look so pleased."

"Well, I've learned to laugh about it. You kind of have to, when your decision of sexual orientation ends up as international front page news. Besides, it got me twice as much play, so I can't exactly complain."

"Didn't you used to be a bitter old sod? Yelling all the time about how shitty your life was? What the hell happened?"

"Lots and lots of sex," Harry answered, quite seriously, then let a grin overtake him once more. "It tends to loosen you up, so to speak."

"This whole conversation disturbs me."

"Don't be such a prude!"

"I'm not! You're a pervert!"

Harry simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head, bringing the subject back into focus, so he could get his dressing gown back and Malfoy out of his apartment. "As best I can figure it, we need to set you up with someone pretty low-key."

"We don't need to set me up at all."

Harry shushed him and allowed his thoughts to wander. Who could possibly be as sexually repressed as Malfoy... 

"Percy!" he exclaimed, head snapping up just in time to see Malfoy's disdainful sneer turn to an expression of disbelief and then amusement.

"Percy _Weasley_? You've got to be kidding me."

"No, no, it's perfect! He's very reserved about the whole gay thing, and I'm sure he could ease you in gently, err, so to speak." Maybe Harry was a bit of a pervert. Double-entendres just seemed to roll off his tongue.

"So, what, did you sleep with him? Giving me your cast-offs?"

"Sleep with Percy? Of course not! I slept with Oliver, his ex."

"Wood? International Quidditch star Oliver Wood?"

"I told you I got around."

"Apparently."

Harry shrugged off Malfoy's judgemental stare and continued formulating the plan in his head. "Listen - you work in finance, he's in the Minister's office. It's perfect! Just go to him about an assessment or something, flirt with him a bit, find excuses to come back... and then ask him for a drink at the end of the week."

"Assessments, Potter? You're an idiot."

"What? It's not like I know anything about finances. I plan events!"

"Which makes it even more pathetic that you don't know anything. And I am not asking Percy Weasley for drinks!"

"Then get him to ask you!"

"I don't even fancy him!"

"That doesn't matter - you don't have to shag him. Just go out to dinner once or twice, let him feel you up a bit. Stop being so skittish about touching other men. Then we'll find you a big bear or whatever it is you're attracted to."

"Bear?"

"You definitely need some literature." Harry sighed.

"And let me guess you have plenty of books on the subject?"

"Of course I do. Hermione's my best friend. What do you think she did when she found out I was gay?"

***

Draco's brain was on information overload. Bears, rimming, twinks, fisting...he didn't know what to think, frankly. He just knew he got off on thinking about boys, but all the details were a bit much. Of course, this was the problem with pureblood familial expectation. All the years he'd spent dithering with Pansy because he thought he was supposed to had put him years behind. He knew how to make rather unsatisfying love to a (fussy, demanding) woman, and that was about it.

And then there was Harry Potter, who had apparently turned into the world's biggest slut. When Draco had asked him how many men he'd slept with, he'd started rattling off a list of names and even had his sex partners _categorised_ by what sex acts they'd engaged in (Potter seemed to think it didn't "count" if he'd only received a blow job, but Draco reckoned sex was sex). Draco was satisfied, at least, when Potter had blushed when Draco had asked how many boyfriends he'd had. The answer was "not that many and not in a few years," and Draco was glad he wasn't the only one who seemed to fail at relationships, gay or straight. Then he teased Potter for about ten minutes about what a whore he apparently was.

Eventually, though, Potter had convinced Draco that the Percy Plan was the right one, and he reluctantly agreed to at least try and have a conversation with him. 

Which brought him to where he now stood, cowering in a shadowed corridor outside the Minister of Magic's office, purposely-incorrect financial docket clasped tightly in his sweaty hands. What was he going to say? He would have stood there procrastinating forever if he could, but then he heard someone coming down the hall behind him, which forced him into action. Entirely too soon, he was standing inside the reception for the Minster's office, a meticulously groomed Percy Weasley arching an under-impressed eyebrow at him.

"Yes?"

Draco's heart thudded in his chest. He didn't know what to say. He just had _no idea_ how to talk to gay men. Well, one he was trying to pull.

"Um, this, um, report is, um, wrong."

Percy pushed his glasses up. "Let me see?"

"Oh, um, sure…" Draco nervously tried to smooth out the creases from where he'd gripped the paper too firmly in his hands He was unsuccessful, and Percy scowled as Draco handed over the badly rumpled document.

As Percy looked down his nose at the document, a sceptical eyebrow raised, Draco assessed him. Ginger hair notwithstanding, he wasn't all that bad. He certainly was a vast improvement on the poncy git Draco recalled from Hogwarts – age, among other things, having contributed to a more distinguished look where he'd formerly been rather awkward and goofy looking. He'd grown into his lanky figure, adding what looked like muscle tone, though Draco could hardly picture Percy working out at the gym. He'd also replaced cheap, MHC glasses with a more expensive, and therefore far more flattering, pair of spectacles. The added salary from being the Minster's assistant for going on ten years (Draco wondered how someone so ambitious remained an assistant, even if he was a _senior_ assistant now), had similarly lead to a wardrobe upgrade – Percy's robes were clearly all tailor made. While to Draco's formerly upper-class eye, Percy was clearly a working class boy desperately trying not to show his roots, still, he would hardly throw him out of bed, an assessment which pleased Draco. He could learn to like Percy's sharp features and hawkish expression, at least enough to fool around a bit. He smiled.

"You're completely incompetent, Malfoy."

"What?"

"When I filed this form, the maths were pristine. Hence, the error must be on your side." He offered the document back to Draco, expression smug. 

"Um, sure. Okay." Draco took back the paper and hastily and shoved it in his pocket. This wasn't going well – he was supposed to flirt, Potter had said. Draco tried in vain to think of something suave and clever to say, something that said 'hi, I'm gay, please shag me'. "I…" Draco swallowed hard, eyes darting around the room and over Percy, fixing onto the other man's blue striped tie. "I like your tie?" Mentally, Draco smacked himself in the head. _I like your tie?_

Percy looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. Draco's face was on _fire_ , he could feel it.

"Um, silk! Just…lovely," Draco babbled, fingering at the collar of his robes, seeking the air the room suddenly seemed to lack. "And blue compliments your, um, hair! Yes, lovely red hair! I'll go fix this report. Sorry to bother you."

Draco fled, refusing to even glance back at Percy, though his bewildered and judgemental stare remained branded in Draco's memory for the next ten minutes, as he replayed his pathetic display over and over. Was it too early to start drinking?

***

Harry had only just started in on his tuna mayonnaise when a rather harried looking Malfoy plunked down next to him, breathing hard.

"I need a drink."

Harry silently offered him his bottle of spring water and continued to enjoy his sandwich. He refused to let Malfoy spoil his Pret ever again. He'd take his interruptions in stride. Harry even managed to keep his composure as Malfoy proceeded to gulp down more than half his drink in one go.

"Blech." Malfoy smacked his lips together wetly. "I was hoping there'd be vodka in there."

"It's a Pret spring water, Malfoy – no alcohol. And it's only 12:30!" Harry studied Malfoy's furrowed brow and tense, fidgety posture. "Didn't go so well with Percy, then?"

"No! I was…gah!" Malfoy dropped his head dramatically onto the table. "I was rubbish," he muttered into the wooden table top.

'Well, it was your first time, so it's okay. And I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"I babbled like an idiot. He thinks I'm crazy."

"Well, in all fairness, he thinks most people are crazy. Not to mention immoral, lazy and stupid. It's just…Percy."

Malfoy raised his head an inch and narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You don't sound like you _like_ him very much."

"No, no, I like him fine," Harry backtracked. "I see him at holidays at the Weasleys – Molly treats me like a son and he's part of the family, so we enjoy a casual, friendly relationship. And we've chatted once or twice about both being gay," Harry rambled. "Anyway – Percy is… particular. And can be kind of annoying, but he's a nice bloke. Frankly, you're both pretty damn picky, so I reckon you'll get along fine."

"You're a shit salesman, Potter."

"Well, he's not a car! He's nice, really. I'll talk to him if you want, explain that you didn't mean any harm, whatever it is you said."

"Oh god, don't – that'll make it even _worse_."

Harry sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning the lenses with the edge of his shirt. "Whatever, Malfoy. I'm only trying to help. And it sounds like you need it…"

Malfoy's head shot up. "I do not need help!" he answered shrilly. Harry threw him a disbelieving look. "I'll have you know, Potter, that I am aces when it comes to chatting up women. I am _brilliant_ at it."

"But you're rubbish with blokes?"

"It's the…gayness, it throws me off," Malfoy countered haughtily, and Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Now you just sound stupid."

Narrowing his eyes at Harry, Malfoy's attention then fell down to his sandwich. "You going to eat that?" he asked, hand already reaching for Harry's other sandwich half. Before Harry could counter with an emphatic 'no,' or even smack his hand away, Malfoy had confiscated Harry's beloved tuna and taken a huge bite from one of the pointed corners.

Scowling, Harry muttered 'bastard' under his breath, though there was little ire behind it, and Malfoy grinned at him cheekily.

Another long and belaboured lunch at Pret, then.

***

Harry tapped his foot impatiently against the marble flooring as he waited for the lift to arrive. It seemed no matter what time of day it was, irrespective of traffic, the lift took forever. He'd summoned it at least three minutes ago, and still nothing. Just as he was about to give up and take the stairs, the lift dinged and the doors slid open. 

_Seventh floor. Doors opening. Going up? Going down. Doors closing_ the nasally, clipped elevator voice intoned, and Harry rolled his eyes. Whenever the lifts were acting up and got stuck on his floor, all you'd hear, ad nauseam, was "Seventh floor. Doors opening. Going up? Going down. Doors closing Seventh floor. Going up?…"

He rushed through the doors before the lift decided to play up, and it was only after he'd jabbed the ground floor button impatiently a half dozen times that he noticed he wasn't alone. Percy arched an eyebrow at him, as he was wont to do, as if to say 'impatient, are we?' He wanted to say it, Harry could tell. He decided to beat him to the punch.

"Hello, Percy," Harry said, injecting forced cheerfulness into his tone. "Good day?"

"Hmm, yes, I suppose," Percy answered with a slight shrug. Harry decided to dive right in.

"So I suppose Malfoy had a chat with you?"

Percy eyed him suspiciously. "Yes…why do you ask?"

"Err, well, I'm sure he made a fool of himself. I just wanted to explain."

Clearly confused and wary, Percy waited for Harry to continue. 

"I told him to talk to you, see. He's…confused and I knew you'd be nice to him, well, once you understood."

"I'm not getting you, Harry," Percy said patronisingly. "In complete, clear sentences, please."

"Oh, sorry." Harry smiled sheepishly, hoping he appeared charming. "Malfoy's gay."

"And…?"

"Well, so are you."

"As are you."

"Yes, but I don't want to date him."

"But I do?"

"I thought you might…"

"You're trying to set me up on a date with Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

Percy sighed heavily, muttering something to himself Harry didn't catch.

"What are you playing at, Harry? I didn't think you the sort to play bait the poof for fun."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Percy! I'm not playing… _bait the poof_! Like I would, of all people. I'm being completely serious. Malfoy thinks he's gay, and I'm, I don't know, _helping_ him, I guess. I thought you, of all the gay guys I know, would be the nicest about it, wouldn't pressure him into anything." Percy didn't look convinced. Harry tried harder. "And, and – you're pureblood! You understand all the Wizarding politics behind it, which I don't get _at all_ , but Malfoy is having a problem with it, and I reckon you two have a lot in common and could talk -"

 _Ding!_ "Ground floor. Doors Opening. Going up?"

The doors slid open, and Percy threw Harry one rather incredulous look before stalking from the lift, moving through the lobby swiftly, with purpose.

"Just one date, Percy!" Harry called after him desperately, glad suddenly for their both working late leaving the ground floor mostly deserted – didn't want everyone to think he was begging Percy Weasley for a date!

Percy stopped near in the Floo bay, and turned to face Harry, seeming to think about it.

"All right, one," he acquiesced, pursing his lips together in obvious disdain and pushing his glasses up his nose just a fraction, for emphasis. "But a _working dinner_ not a date, and I control time and place. I can't be seen in certain establishments wining and dining finance staff. It would seem improprietous of me."

Harry wasn't even sure that was a real word, but he just nodded emphatically, glad to have made some head-way. "Thanks, Percy. But, listen, Malfoy didn't want me to talk to you – could you phone him up tomorrow, or send him a note, and ask him so he doesn't know I interfered?"

"I guess, Harry," Percy sighed.

Harry shot Percy a thumbs up and what he was sure was a stupid-looking grin as the other man sighed heavily and stepped into the Floo. Percy was gone before they could discuss details.

***

The special sandwich of the week was goat cheese with grilled vegetables. Harry wasn't exactly sure if he liked it yet – goat cheese was a favourite, but grilled and then re-chilled vegetables were hit or miss. Too much crunch in his sandwich tended to turn Harry's stomach.

It was the Monday after he'd stopped Percy in the lobby, and though he hadn't seen Malfoy for a few days after that, he was fairly sure they'd arranged their first date for sometime that weekend. So Harry couldn't help but wonder how it went. Considering he'd spent his weekend watching telly and wanking, he hoped Malfoy had had a more romantically successful time of things.

It appeared he might have, from the sly smile that was planted on his face as he sat down across from Harry.

“You look pleased with yourself. I take it the date went well?” Harry said, a little more clipped than he'd intended. Malfoy merely kept smiling.

“Hmmm, of course. This whole gay thing is going to be a piece of cake.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. Weasley – rather _Percy_ and I had a lovely evening out.”

“What did you do?” Harry asked, genuinely curious – he hadn't expected the first date would go well at all, honestly.

“Dinner at a rather nice French restaurant. Plenty of wine." Malfoy stretched like a cat and grinned. "He came back to mine after...”

“Really?” Harry couldn't help his shrill tone. He couldn't believe Percy would be so forward.

“Hmm, yes. What did you expect Potter? That I'd crash and burn?”

“Well, yes, actually. But that's...great. I'm glad you had a good time.”

"I did. See – I can be just as good at this as you are."

"Malfoy, it's not a competition."

Malfoy didn't look convinced. "Sure. You gonna eat that?"

Before Harry could answer, Malfoy had solved the sandwich dilemma by taking the other half. Great, now Harry was going to be hungry all day.

***

The white caffè mocha really hit the spot, Harry thought, sipping it quietly in a corner of Starbucks as he watched the rain pelting the pavement outside. While he normally didn't take lunch and coffee on the same day, it had been a pretty crap lunch with Malfoy mooning over his date and the cold rain outside hadn't exactly made Harry want to spend his entire afternoon trapped in the office. 

As he took another sip of his drink, and actively tried to _not_ think of it as Malfoy's drink, he looked up and saw Percy at the counter, paying for a coffee. Before Harry could help it, their eyes met and when it was clear neither could pretend they hadn't seen the other, Percy came over.

"Hello Harry," he said, giving a tight smile, clutching his coffee tightly in his hand.

"Hi Percy." Harry gave his own wary smile. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Sure, thank you." Percy sat, laying his sopping umbrella down on the chair beside him and taking a long draw of his drink. He came away, nose wrinkled in distaste. "I don't even like Starbucks coffee. Don't know why I come here."

"Addictive additives," Harry replied glibly, almost automatically. Damn Malfoy and his stories.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Harry said hastily. "So, I hear you had a rather good date with Malfoy."

"Good? I'm not quite sure that's the term I'd use."

"Oh? Then what term would you use?"

"Bizarre and somewhat insulting."

"Really?" Harry was surprised, but also secretly pleased and desperately curious. It seemed Malfoy hadn't been one hundred percent honest. "What happened?"

"Well, conversation was, to say the least, awkward," Percy started with a huff. "He insulted my restaurant choice, wardrobe, hairstyle and family, among other things. Then he got absolutely soused on wine, so much to the point that he couldn’t Apparate home by himself. I saw him home, where he then threw himself at me in the doorway. When I pushed him away, he fell and vomited all over the doorstep. Not exactly an experience I'm keen to repeat."

Harry jaw fell open. "That's… wow. That last part at least sounds familiar – Malfoy tends to vomit when he's been drinking." Harry laughed awkwardly, but Percy didn't seem amused. "Can't hold his alcohol at all. He got my shoes the last time. But, um, I'm really sorry about the rest of it."

"Honestly, I've no idea why I said yes. Not one of my brighter moments," Percy said snidely, taking another measured sip of coffee.

"Maybe he was just nervous?"

"Maybe he's a twat?"

"Percy!"

Percy rolled his eyes and shrugged. "If you lot can say it, so can I."

"Whatever, Percy. But you should stop being so judgemental. I'm sure you weren't all slickness and composure when you first came out."

"My coming out isn't the issue. Going out with Draco Malfoy was awkward and thoroughly unpleasant, and I can't believe you talked me into it."

"Well, could you try again?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's just… he seemed so happy when I spoke to him earlier. I don’t think he realised how miserable you were. Just give him another chance," Harry pleaded.

Percy furrowed his brow, studying him. "I really don't get your role in this, Harry."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, caught off-guard.

"I just don't understand why you're acting as Draco Malfoy's advocate. I thought you hated him."

Harry shrugged. "Not really. He's annoying, but, I don't know. I like him, I guess, as a sometimes acquaintance."

"Right," said Percy, clearly not convinced. "Well, I really don't fancy another round with Malfoy, I'm afraid."

Harry's stomach dropped. "Oh, please, Percy! Just one more date. Talk to him this time, about being gay. Give him some advice, or something."

Percy looked at him as you would at a mental patient. "I thought giving him advice was your role?" 

"I can only give him one side of it," Harry tried to explain. "The clubbing, the multiple sex partners, the out-and-proud angle. I don't know if he's that comfortable with it. He needs a different perspective!"

Percy raised that disdainful eyebrow at about the point Harry got to 'multiple sex partners,' and Harry couldn't help blushing. He always felt like he was under scrutiny with Percy. And with Malfoy, for that matter. God, maybe instead of creating a new gay friend with whom to commiserate, he'd created yet another critic...

"I'll consider it. Maybe," said Percy finally. He took a final sip of the ghastly coffee and stood. "I'll get back to you." He was out of the shop before Harry could say thank you.

***

"Um, thank you for inviting me back here," Draco said, calling through to Percy in the kitchen. He really wished he were drunk for this, but Percy had insisted they forgo wine at dinner, for some reason. But things had gone pleasantly enough at dinner, Draco thought. It was funny that Percy had made it a rule that they wouldn’t discuss their families or fashion, but he went with it. 

Surveying Percy's small but impeccably tidy apartment in one turn, he then sat himself on the surprisingly tasteful navy blue couch and fiddled with the hem of his robes while Percy tinkered with the tea. This was… progress – an invite back to Percy's place. Clearly the date had gone well, and not just by Draco's personal estimation.

A moment later, Percy came out from the kitchen, a small tea service perched on a wooden tray, which he had charmed to float in front of him and settle gently onto the coffee table. 

"I hope you like Earl Grey." Percy sat down beside him and reached for the pink paisley print tea pot, which garnered a raised eyebrow from Draco. "My mother's," Percy said, by way of explanation and Draco merely smirked. Leave it to Molly Weasley to give her gay son a pink paisley tea set.

Tea poured and milk politely declined, the two settled back with their teacups and saucers, falling into an awkward silence. Draco didn't know what they were supposed to talk about now. Dinner had mostly been work-related talk and generic social chatter. Neither seemed appropriate now that they were sitting ten feet from Percy's bedroom.

"So…" Draco began, searching around the room for something to spark conversation, his eyes ending up back on the pink paisley teacup. "So when did you figure out you were gay?" Oh God he couldn’t believe he asked that, straight out.

Percy spluttered into his teacup. "Oh! Um, I, well…" He put his teacup and saucer down on the table and visibly composed himself. "I suppose it's been six years now. I was a bit of a… late bloomer, and didn't realise I was, well, less inclined towards women until I was in my early twenties."

"Is that normal? I just thought… well, apparently Potter's been gay since we were teenagers. And he's slept with more men than I have, well, anyone of either sex, period. I just feel so behind." Draco's candour surprised him, but for some reason he felt perfectly comfortable confiding in Percy. So maybe he didn't need to be ply himself with alcohol to get through this. Though he was going to need to stop sounding like such a bloody girl.

"As far as I know, it's perfectly normal. And, well, not such a surprising phenomenon among pureblood wizards, considering the heavy push towards heterosexual marriage we get in our youth. It was only after a rather unsuccessful engagement to Penny that I realised I preferred the opposite gender."

Percy may have sounded like a textbook, but hearing it from someone else automatically put Draco at ease. He could feel himself light up in the face. "Yes! That's what I was trying to explain to Potter! I spent all this time trying to convince myself I was in love with Pansy, while Potter was out shagging every gay wizard in Britain. He just doesn't understand – he has no shame!"

"Harry's… promiscuous, then?" Percy asked, eyebrow precariously raised. 

"According to him. I don't buy half of it, bloody braggart. He hasn't even been in a serious relationship – he told me." Draco realised he was talking entirely too much about Potter, so he decided to steer the conversation back to Percy. " _How_ did you know you were gay, though?"

"Penny – my ex-fiance – told me, actually. It was a bizarre conversation, to say the least. I think I sulked for two weeks, refused to accept it."

"And then what?"

"I met Oliver Wood at a Quidditch match. It went rather easily from there." Did Draco detect a smirk? Well, Percy was full of surprises. He tried not to imagine the hunky Oliver Wood, naked but for a towel, straddling a fully-clothed (in business attire, no less) Percy over a locker room bench. But then his mind was already filling in all the blanks, and he had to shift to the side to conceal his burgeoning erection. 

"What about you?" Percy asked, interrupting Draco's smutty fantasy.

"Just did." He shrugged, and under Percy's pressing stare continued. "Thinking about men when I tossed off was a bit of a giveaway, I suppose."

"And what made you decide to go to Harry for help? That's a rather odd move." Percy was starring at him, his blue eyes intense behind his silver-framed glasses. It reminded Draco of when Potter looked at him with equal intensity – usually annoyance or hatred – there was something about spectacles that magnified a stare tenfold. Draco blushed.

"He was the only bloke I knew who was gay. And, erm, Pansy made me."

"She made you?"

"She said if I didn't go to him for help, she'd twist my balls off." Draco noted Percy's rather disturbed expression. "She's a very colourful woman." He laughed nervously.

"Well, it's nice that she's supportive, at least. Penny and I stopped talking. I think it was too painful for her. I still feel pretty badly."

Draco's first thought was "you should!" but he knew that wasn't the correct answer. Frankly, the only reason he wasn't honouring his own commitment to Pansy was she refused to marry him as a beard and forego a sex life. And, unfortunately, Draco was pretty sure she was the only pureblood girl who would have him. Draco gave a sympathetic smile and tried to think. What would Potter say? Something encouraging… 

"But it's not your fault you didn't fancy her, right?" 

Percy sighed, and Draco reckoned he'd got it right.

'I know… but I spent five years with her. And she was essentially wasting her time." He took a heavy sip of tea. "But it's no matter," he sighed. "You shouldn't get too hung up on the whole pureblood thing. It's mattering less and less, I think. More purebloods are coming out, not marrying to preserve bloodlines, since the war."

"You mean since Harry Potter declared he liked cock."

Draco snorted as Percy coughed through the sip of tea he'd been taking.

"That's… um, yes. I won't deny that Harry's coming out didn't help the general perception of homosexuality in the wizarding world."

Percy was right: things had become more lax since Potter's sexuality had been splashed across all the front pages and discussed to death on the Wireless. He was like the gay Messiah. And what was Draco doing? Going to him for advice. Damn it, he was going to give the prat a martyr complex.

Conversation waned as they both sat and sipped on their tea, Percy seemingly lost in thought and Draco preoccupied with what he should do next. He was rather starting to _like_ Percy, at least insomuch as he wasn't as much of a prat as he'd expected, and he was definitely more agreeable than Potter was most days. He also didn't seem to expect anything of him, which helped matters. And in taking all the pressure off Draco sexually, it made him want to jump right into the gay sex thing even more. His pass at Percy earlier that week hadn't gone too successfully, but Draco wanted to try again, maybe see if he could steer Percy in the direction of the bedroom, get a little practise in…

"Could I kiss you?"

The only reason there wasn't tea coming out of Percy's nose, surely, was because he'd already finished his cup.

"Pardon?"

"Well, you didn't seem to like it last time when I did it spontaneously, so I thought I'd ask."

"You _lunged_ at me. And missed."

"You moved."

"You were drunk."

"Well, can I? I've never kissed a bloke, and I really would like to…"

Percy looked wary. He worried his lip, making it pink and flush, which sent all manner of dirty thoughts into Draco's head. He wanted to debauch this man _now_.

"I suppose so."

"Excellent!" Draco said, he realised a little too enthusiastically. He scooched forward, closer to Percy and leaned in gently, resting a steadying hand on the pillow behind Percy. Percy pulled back, however, lips now pursed unsurely. 

"Um…" he wrinkled his nose and pushed Draco back about a foot. Draco was about to protest, but then he saw Percy remove his glasses, placing them on the table, then lean forward, taking Draco's face in his hands and seeking out his lips with his.

Draco wished he could say it was drastically different from kissing a girl, but it wasn't, really. Oh, the texture was different, what with there being no lipstick or lipgloss shellacked on top of the lips, and the hands holding his face were rougher than those to which he was accustomed, but Draco was pleased to find that it was really just a kiss. And he knew what to do with a kiss.

Taking charge, Draco leaned forward with a bit of pressure, pushing Percy back against the couch cushions and rather demandingly pushing his tongue into Percy's mouth. As Percy relaxed into the kiss, Draco let his body rest on top of the other man's and moved his hands to roam Percy's body. He insinuated a knee between Percy's legs and was pleased to find, upon wriggling against him a bit, that Percy had a just-detectable hard on, as well.

Draco grinned, breaking the kiss to move down Percy's jawline, tonguing down his throat until he reached the top of Percy's impeccably starched and buttoned shirt. Working at the buttons with deft fingers, he stopped once he could reach Percy's nipples, which he laved with his tongue, whilst manoeuvring a hand between their bodies to grasp Percy's crotch.

As if Draco's touch were an electric shock, Percy jerked under him and started babbling. "No, no, we mustn't, we _can't_." 

Percy pushed him physically away, hastening to put his clothes to rights and get physically as far away from Draco as the couch would allow. Draco's stomach lurched – what had he done wrong?

"Why not?" 

Percy looked physically ill and his face was a blotched, red mess. "This is just too fast, Draco, and I'm afraid I'm not interested in a quick fumble and shag tonight." Jumping up and grabbing his wand, Percy hurried over to the door and unlocked it with quick spell. He stood there, waiting for Draco to follow his lead. He swallowed nervously. "We've had a lovely evening and I enjoyed speaking with you very much. Let's just… leave it at that."

Draco reluctantly picked himself up off the couch and moved towards the door. Before he could say anything, Percy cut in – 

"I'll see you tomorrow at work, yes?"

Draco just nodded dumbly and found the front door shut behind hiohm before he could think of anything clever to say.

Well, damn it.

Percy had been fifteen minutes late for work today, completely unacceptable in his mind. But he couldn’t help that he had woken up that morning, prick hard and refusing to go down without a wank, which was, needless to say, highly out of the ordinary for Percy and, being unusual, put Percy off his entire morning schedule. 

So his morning shower had taken twice as long, as he had used a full ten minutes to tease himself, as he liked to do, and bring himself to orgasm, pleased that the shower, at least, would leave him clean for the day’s work. He thought back to it now, how he had stroked his prick with soapy hands, scolding himself every time he thought of Draco Malfoy on his knees in front of him, and feeling a further spike of arousal each time, because it was so wrong: he was supposed to be helping him. Even now, the thought was getting Percy hard again, and he blanched at the mental image of him pushing Malfoy over his desk, scattering his neatly arranged paperwork and showing him all the mechanics of gay sex. This, too, was highly out of the ordinary – Percy was rarely the aggressor, and certainly almost never topped anyone, but the idea of _being the teacher_ …held some appeal, certainly.

Percy glanced nervously at the door to Scrimgeour’s office, knowing that at any minute he would be popping out for his lunch meeting, but surreptitiously moved his hand down to his crotch anyway, palming at his prick through his trousers. It was so wrong, he knew it, but the times (rare though they were) that he wanked at work always provided the most intense orgasms… and Draco Malfoy certainly had him all hot and bothered.

Mind you, he still wasn’t entirely sure of his motives. Or Harry’s, for that matter. The whole thing smacked of odd – Harry working as Draco’s… middle man of sorts, taking an active interest in the gay ‘development’ of a man Percy assumed he’d hated. And, well, the way Draco talked about Harry, Percy couldn't help but think there was more to his interest than just attaching himself to the nearest gay man for guidance. Percy suspected he was being used.

Then Percy really thought about it, the two of them, and hit on the idea of Harry and Draco, writhing against one another, maybe in the corridor, or on Percy’s desk… and he nearly came in his pants. It was of no shock to Percy that he was fantasising about Harry – he’d had all manner of dirty thoughts when he’d found out Harry was dating Oliver: since he knew what at least one of them looked like – and acted like – naked, putting the two of them together in a fantasy had been fairly easy. Though the real naughty moment had been that one time he’d _sworn_ Harry and Charlie had exchanged _a look_ at Christmas… And now to hear that Harry was apparently quite promiscuous, well, it dredged up all manner of unsavoury thoughts.

Percy shook away the thought. Scrimgeour would be leaving any minute now. He pulled his hand away from his throbbing prick and tried to concentrate on work – he had several appointments to book, and three reports to file by the end of the day.

And then, as if the universe just knew that Percy had just been wanking (well, almost), Scrimgeour stalked out of his office, barking a quick “be back in a few hours” and then left Percy blissfully alone. Resisting the temptation to reach his hand back under his desk, Percy turned to his master schedule and started spelling in the next two weeks’ agenda. As he coloured in a column pink, he tried not to think about Draco’s pink lips, possibly a pink cock, and when he turned the adjoining row blue, he almost laughed at the thought of his poor, blue balls, and how his cock must be nearly purple by now. God, he couldn’t believe he was getting turned on by _colour-coded spreadsheets_.

This is what happened when romantic possibilities were unexpectedly introduced into his life. He could generally handle long periods of celibacy, and tended not to think and do such inappropriate things at work, really. But just the hint of a possible relationship (though he very much doubted there was long-term potential with Malfoy, who seemed more interested in experiencing gay sex for gay sex’s sake), and he seemed to be constantly horny, especially now that he was determined not to give into Malfoy’s advances. But, oh, had Malfoy felt so good, writhing up against him the previous evening, mouth eager and tongue thoroughly wicked. It had taken all of Percy’s resolve to push him away, and even now, he was trying not to think of all manner of secret nooks where he could sneak off with Malfoy and bugger him senseless…

Then, if by some horrible karmic coincidence, Malfoy was there, standing in front of Percy’s desk, hungry look in his eyes and at first, Percy was convinced it was just another vivid masturbatory fantasy. But even in his dirtiest fantasies, Percy couldn’t come up with the words that fell from Draco's (pink!) lips.

“I want to blow you. Now.”

“Pardon me?”

Draco rolled his eyes and licked his lips, and Percy’s dick throbbed almost painfully.

“I want to suck you off, now. You can bitch and moan all you like about moving too fast – I need practise sucking a man off, and I’m afraid you’re it. I saw Scrimgeour leave, so you’ve no excuses.”

“You’re… insane,” Percy stammered, swallowing thickly. This was _better_ than his dirtiest fantasies.

“Mildly so, yes. I am sick of being inexperienced, and if you won’t shag me, you can at least do this,” Malfoy ordered, flicking his wand at the door, and Percy noted that it banged against the doorframe but didn’t shut completely. The thought of it thrilled him just a bit. 

Malfoy stalked around Percy’s desk and Percy spun round in his chair to face him, hands grasping the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. Malfoy got down on his knees in front of him, grabbing Percy’s thighs and forcing them apart, so he could settle more closely between them. Pushing aside Percy’s robes, Malfoy jerked the zip of Percy’s trousers down, right over his still-raging erection, causing him to yelp in a rather undignified manner. 

“Already hard, then?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Percy’s cock, which he could feel straining wetly against the tight cotton of his briefs. “Naughty.” Grinning, Malfoy ran his fingers tentatively over the hard flesh, and Percy had to fight not to grind himself into his hand. Malfoy stroked a few times, sending pleasant shivers up and down Percy’s entire body, then gingerly worked Percy’s cock and balls through the slit in his underwear.

“You’re… bigger than I thought you’d be, Weasley.”

Percy couldn’t think of how to respond to that. If he’d been Charlie, he would have said something wicked and clever; if he were Bill, he’d have made some sort of coy retort. But he was Percy, and he couldn’t think of anything to say other than ‘pardon me?’ or ‘thank you,’ and neither seemed particularly appropriate, so he just remained silent. Which was all well and good in the next moment when Malfoy lowered his head, taking a tentative swipe at Percy’s cock with his tongue, and he nearly shouted something entirely inappropriate. Instead he whimpered, which turned to a full-on moan a moment later when Malfoy apparently threw tentative out the window and engulfed Percy’s prick in one go.

“Oh, fuck!” Percy couldn’t help muttering as, after a few awkward tries at sucking and bobbing Malfoy successfully managed to do both while running the tip of his tongue around the tip of his cock _just so_ , and the only thing that kept him from coming was Malfoy’s hand, pressed firmly against his balls. Malfoy had to be lying about not having done this before, because he knew _exactly_ how to make Percy feel _amazing_ and he was going to come soon, no matter what Malfoy did with his hand…

And then Malfoy released his hold, moving his hand instead to the base of Percy’s cock, using the other to smack Percy on the thigh. Puzzled, Percy looked down to find Malfoy peering up at him, a dirty, dirty look in his eyes and, following what he thought was his lead, Percy tried thrusting his hips upward, pistoning his cock into Malfoy's mouth. And _yes_ it was _glorious_ and it seemed to be just what Malfoy wanted as well, and he moaned around Percy's cock. 

The vibrations up and down his prick set Percy off and he couldn’t help it, he came, shooting hot spurts into Malfoy's mouth, and then over his face as he jerked away.

"I'm so sorry Malfoy, that I didn't warn you, I…" Percy trailed off, fumbling with his trouser pocket and extracting a monogrammed handkerchief, which he handed over to Malfoy. Eyeing him with obvious annoyance, Malfoy tossed the handkerchief aside and simply spelled his face clean, doing the same with Percy's crotch while he was at it. Percy knew he was blushing like a virgin, despite the fact that he should have the upper hand here. He couldn’t _believe_ he had just don't that, _at work_ , too. And with Malfoy? He mentally smacked himself.

Percy tucked himself back into his underwear and swivelled his chair back round, just catching the door to his office wobbling, and a figure retreating hastily. Heart dropping into his stomach, Percy felt a bit of sick-up in his mouth – oh God, they’d been watched. And, well, perhaps he was just going mad, but he could have sworn the intruder looked like Harry Potter.

***

Harry was hard. Ridiculously and embarrassingly hard. He ducked into the nearest loo and, once he’d made sure he was alone, locked himself in one of the cubicles and whipped his dick out as fast as he could manage wearing a full set of robes with Muggle underclothes. _God_ , he’d never imagined watching Malfoy suck off Percy could be that hot. But the _sounds_ they’d both been making, especially Malfoy, as he moaned around the other man’s cock, like he’d really been enjoying it. 

Harry’s hand flew over his cock, as he replayed the scene in his mind. He'd only gone by to ask Percy how the second date with Draco had gone, and when he'd got there, well, he'd _heard_ them first, that wet smacking sound and gutteral moaning that tend to characterise sex. And then, seeing them…he'd mostly just been able to get the back of Percy's head, thrown back, his mouth dropped open in pleasure, and just a hint of Malfoy's head bobbing in his lap, but it was enough to make it obvious what they were doing. He'd been hard instantly, and it was only the fact that casting a Disillusionment Charm would have drawn their attention to him that he didn't stand right there in the corridor and wank.

His arousal levels being what they were (off the charts) and his recent sexual activity being pretty much null, Harry came quickly, shooting several runny white strands onto the metal cubicle door. Spent and sweaty, he collapsed down onto the covered toilet seat and dropped his head into this hands. What was he doing, wanking in a loo cubicle over _Percy and Malfoy_? Certainly, yes, he enjoyed the voyeuristic aspect – he occasionally would go to the back-rooms at Knobs and Broomsticks just to watch – but this was pompous Percy and git Malfoy!

Percy was, unbelievably, the easier of the two to accept – his view of him had become considerably more positive since Oliver told him, in the strictest confidence of course, that Percy had felt genuinely bad about his actions during the early days of the war, even though he had yet to apologise properly to Harry. And, well, apparently he was rather good in bed. "Quite keen to keep you hot and coming as long as possible," had been the way Oliver put it. The idea of Percy being as eager to please in bed as he was at work… well, Harry kept an open mind.

He was decidedly more closed-minded about Malfoy. Malfoy was brash, inconsiderate, he stole Harry's sandwich halves and vomited on his best shoes… and he was an _accountant_ for Christ's sake! _He's_ not _an accountant, he's a financial advisor_ a shrill voice in his head scolded him, that sounded suspiciously like Malfoy. Oh, god, he had an internal Malfoy monologue now.

Harry flashed back on the scene in the office, filling in the blanks that his bad viewing angle had deprived him of. He imagined Percy's eyes wide behind his glasses, hands skittish, fingers tapping nervously against his thighs, maybe at one point reaching out and grasping Malfoy's shoulder. He reckoned Malfoy smiled while he did it, the corner of his lips quirking just slightly as Percy's prick filled his mouth. Did he swallow at all? Harry heard him sputtering when Percy came, but he couldn't be sure. Did Malfoy like it? Was he the kind of queer who liked to worship other men's cocks, savour having them in his mouth, sucking them down and making another man come, long and hard? 

Harry could just picture Malfoy on his knees in front of him, smiling around his cock… 

Oh, God, did he really want _Malfoy_ to suck him off? 

Yes.

And he kind of wanted Percy Weasley after.

Oh dear.

***

Draco was wary of this… place. He watched the funny moving surface, covered in little coloured plates topped with plastic domes and tried to figure out what was inside them. He glanced over at Percy, narrowing his eyes to let him know his disdain.

"You're a picky eater." Percy said matter-of-factly. "This is a la carte ordering and you're guaranteed to find something you like."

"Is it my fault that French restaurant didn't have a crème brulee? Bloody heathens…"

"You didn't have to shout at the waiter."

"He was looking at me funny."

"Funnily."

"What?"

"He was looking at you _funnily_."

"Did you just correct my grammar?"

"Let's sit down," Percy said breezily, nudging Draco's arm before taking off to the back of the restaurant, sliding into one side of a tacky white booth, flanked on the left by the funny conveyer thingy.

Draco took a seat and studied the display more closely. "How does this place work, exactly?"

"All the plates are colour-coded – all the orange ones are £3, all the pink ones are £3.50, and so on. If you see something on the belt that you like, just pick it up. If you want something ready-made, order it." He handed Draco a little book, which Draco saw was full of pictures of all the food served there, colour-coded, as Percy had said.

"What's with you and colour-coding?"

"Excuse me?"

"When I came to your office, you were moaning something about colour-coded spreadsheets."

"Oh, nothing." Percy blushed.

Draco sniggered, then helped himself to a glass of water from a tap that sat right at the table. "So what are you getting?"

"Chicken katsu curry and salmon and asparagus skewers," Percy answered automatically, not even looking up from the menu.

"That was fast."

"Oh, I always get the same thing."

"Then why are you looking at the menu?"

"I like to browse."

"Well, do you recommend anything?"

"Um, chicken katsu curry and salmon and asparagus skewers?"

"Not very adventurous, are you?"

"Generally, no."

Except in the bedroom, Draco hoped, but he refrained from saying anything, lest they end up with a pair of hard-ons in a crowded sushi restaurant and nowhere to go take care of it.

"Right," Draco mumbled, looking over the chicken section, searching for something he might like. Plagued by indecision, he stared at the conveyer belt for a good two minutes, watching little sushi rolls and fruit plates whirring by on neon-coloured disks. Draco was not good at choosing from variety, it's why he _liked_ small, upscale restaurants with a shortlist of specialties and seasonal dishes. This was sheer chaos!

A girl with heavy black eyeliner, vibrant pink highlights and a bored expression appeared at the end of their table, notepad in hand. "Do you know what you want?"

"Chicken katsu curry and salmon and asparagus skewers, please," Percy chirped immediately. She noted it down and then looked expectedly at Draco.

"Ummm… some salmon and asparagus skewers as well, please, and… um,…. Chicken teriyaki?"

"Sure thing." The girl nodded and walked off. 

"Yours sounded good, so…" Draco said, attempting to explain his choice.

Percy laughed lightly. "It's fine, Draco. The skewers really are lovely. Nice and light. I've heard the chicken teriyaki is good, as well."

"Good!" Draco said a little too brightly.

"So, Draco. Explain this to me." Percy's conversational tone belied the seriousness of his question.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, the whole thing – your figuring out you're gay, going to Harry for help, what you want from me. I'm sorry to be so serious, but I'd really like to know."

Oh dear God. And Percy wasn't going to let him order any alcohol.

"Ummmm…" Draco smiled awkwardly. "Well, I told you about Pansy. She can be a formidable witch when she wants to be, and, well, all it took was one mention of Potter, and there she was, breathing down my neck."

"And why Harry?"

"Well, who else did I know who was gay?"

Percy hid a snort of laugher behind a badly faked cough. "So you went to him for advice? Or were you hoping for a date?"

"A date? With Potter? Don't be ridiculous," Draco scoffed. 

"But you're looking for sexual experience, obviously."

"Well, yes. What else would I be looking for?"

"A relationship?"

"It's a bit soon for that."

Percy looked disappointed. "Yes, I can certainly understand that."

Before Percy could continue or Draco could respond, one of the chefs started handing over their food. The two of them kept an amiable silence over the next few minutes as they waited for all their dishes to arrive and start eating. Percy was halfway through a salmon and asparagus skewer before he spoke.

"Draco, if it's sexual experience you're after, I'm not so sure I'm the right person for you. I tend to go for more serious relationships, less frivolity." 

"But who's to say I can't get some sexual experience and be in a relationship with you?"

Percy sighed. "I think you'll find that once you get a taste for it, so to speak, that you don't want to settle with just one person. My relationship with Oliver didn't last very long for that reason, I think. You feel like you're settling before you've seen what the world has to offer. And I don't want to be your try-on, only to be left in the dust a short while later because you got bored."

Draco made several high pitched noises in the back of his throat, unsure whether or not he should feel offended. "I wouldn't get _bored_ , Percy."

"Oh yes you would, trust me. I'm not particularly exciting. And I've seen it time and time again. Your first relationship tends not to be true love, and I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to get too emotionally invested in someone who won't stick around very long."

Draco frowned. "You are rather boring, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid so. Uncertainty gives me a bit of a nervous condition. I blame my mother." He grinned, popping an asparagus piece into his mouth.

"So are you breaking up with me?"

"We were a couple?"

"Well, not exactly."

"Then, no, I'm not breaking up with you. I'd love to continue our chats and take the occasional lunch or dinner out. I'm just not willing to be your sole outlet for sexual experimentation. Might I suggest going to a club or something? Harry's always tried to get me to go with him."

"I don't know… the last time was rather unpleasant."

"Was it?"

"People were touching me."

"They tend to do that. Listen, the way I see it, you can do this one of two ways. You can find a total stranger to break you in or find a friend. Since you don't seem to be interested in Harry…"

"No! Definitely _not_." Draco could feel himself blush. "Are you seriously encouraging me to go to a club and seek out an anonymous sex partner?"

"Well, no, not anonymous. I was more thinking you could chat someone up at the bar, maybe go on a few dates and then… well, you know." 

"Um, yeah." Draco blushed. What Percy was proposing certainly had merit, especially considering how horny he'd been recently. If Percy wasn't going to have sex with him, he needed to find another outlet. Percy, apparently seeing that he'd made his point, changed the subject.

"Now, let's talk about your spreadsheets, Malfoy..."

***

It was weird coming back to Knobs and Broomsticks without Harry. Draco felt twice as exposed without the rather formidable boy hero at his back, though there were admittedly fewer dodgy men salivating in his direction this time. Maybe Potter was right and they could smell fresh meat – and he wasn't so fresh anymore. Though he still hadn't managed to lose his so-called "gay virginity," but that was the point of tonight's exercise. Do some experimenting, so maybe Percy would consider him. Or Potter. Wait, no. Not Potter.

Draco gave a heavy, resigned sigh and let himself be swallowed up by the crowd on the dance floor. He wasn't going to drink tonight, well, not much, since he had become acutely aware of his tendency to vomit all over people when he'd had too much to drink. And what could be more of a libido kill than that? The music blasting through the club was some ethnic techno fusion, some Weird Sisters' tune made scratchy and faster using a combination of distortion and remix spells. Draco swayed, bopped and swivelled, gritting his teeth and trying to enjoy it when random men ground themselves on him, grabbed hold of his hips, dipped their heads to lick at his neck, collarbone. After several offers from the wrong sort to pop to the back of the club, Draco gave up on the dance floor and went over to the bar. Drinks it was then, vomit or no.

With a bit of pushing and relegating a nasty glare or two, Draco managed to get himself a place at the front of the bar, and he flagged down the first bartender who passed him. It was the same bloke who'd chatted him and Harry up before, he realised as the other man smiled at him.

"And what can I get you?" he asked, dark eyes glinting in the low light.

"Um, can I get one of those funny blue drink things?" Draco queried, realising he didn't know what any of the drinks were called. Potter did all the ordering last time. "I had one the last time I was here."

"Hmmm, yes, I remember," the bartender drawled wickedly, looking Draco up and down, surely catching sight of the lovebite on Draco's neck, from some vampiric pervert on the dance floor. "I'll get you two."

Before Draco could protest about not drinking too much, he'd whizzed off to the other side of the bar, and was already spelling several bottles into the air, making them pour in dashes and dumps into two glasses. A minute later he was back, setting the two glasses in front of him and spelling them on fire for a few seconds, before the fire fizzled out and the drinks turned their wild blue.

Draco smiled thinly. "Thanks. I really don't need two, though… do you want one?"

"If you're paying," the bartender returned cheekily.

"Sure, why not," Draco sighed, picking up the glass nearest him and raising it off the bar. "Cheers."

The bartender picked up the other glasses and returned his toast. "Cheers to you, too." They both took long draws from their respective glasses. "I'm Gabriel, by the way."

"Draco."

"Nice to see you again, Draco. Where's your… friend?"

"Not here."

"Did you have a fight?" Gabriel asked, tone more conspiratorial than sympathetic.

"No," Draco snapped. "He's not my boyfriend or anything."

"Oh, I didn't think he was, trust me. He comes in here enough; we all know he's not got a boyfriend. Just thought you were friends, seeing as he was showing you the ropes here, protecting you."

"I don't need protecting," Draco muttered, taking another swallow of murky blue alcohol. 

"Oh?" Gabriel was looking at him, a spark of interest layered under his obvious curiosity. Draco studied him. Tall and thin, he had a strong set of shoulders and a slight but masculine physique. Draco could make out the toning in his chest and shoulders through his crisp, fitted lavender shirt. He had dark, straight hair that framed his face neatly – basically the opposite of Potter – this man knew how to use product! But what drew Draco to him was undoubtedly his eyes, warm brown and electric. His loaded stare, which told Draco quite frankly that Gabriel was ready, willing and very interested, went right to Draco's groin. 

"No," answered Draco, suddenly desperate to get this going. "Do you want to go into the back with me?"

Gabriel grinned. "Love to. You'll have to wait a bit, though, my shift ends at 2. But I reckon we could sneak away a little early…"

Draco's stomach fluttered nervously. This was really going to happen. "Sounds brilliant. Get me another drink in the meantime, will you?"

***

"This is the best room in the place, you know," Gabriel said, walking backwards, his arms thrust out so as to show the place off. It looked like all the other dark rooms they'd passed, but Draco nodded anyway, following him into the space and sitting nervously on the padded bench against the back wall. The entire space was black as pitch, the walls, floor, ceiling, furniture. The only illumination came from several black lights in the corners, their fuzzy purple glow giving everything an other worldly look. 

Gabriel leaned against the wall, next to a small stand which Draco could now see held several containers of lubricant and what looked like funny round things in plastic sleeves. Guess not all wizards like using spells. Draco himself was partial to using proper lube when he wanked.

"So have you done this before?" Gabriel asked, eying Draco knowingly.

To tell the truth or to lie? Draco didn't want to seem like some pathetic virgin, but if he lied and pretended he was über experienced, it could be… unpleasant.

"Not as such," he answered carefully.

Gabriel's expression seemed to indicate he needed some more information. 

"Not with a man," Draco clarified reluctantly.

"Ah, that makes sense."

"What?"

"Your friend said you were new to the scene, refused to share. Let me guess – you just got out of a serious relationship with a woman?"

"Err, yeah."

"You two always shagged, but it just didn't do it for you and you didn't know why?"

"Ummm…"

"Well, don't worry," Gabriel grinned ferally, sitting down next to Draco and placing a hot and eager hand on his upper thigh. "This is much, much better." As the hand moved to rub at Draco's erection, Gabriel ducked his head down and began kissing Draco's neck, working his way up until he was rasping in his ear. "When I'm through with you, with _doing things to you_ , you'll never want to fuck another woman again."

***

The music pounded in Harry's ears, the vibrations echoing throughout his entire body. He could _feel_ the undulations of several hundred men moving on the dance floor; it was already 2 a.m. and the place was packed. Two Sickle shot night was probably helping the club with its numbers, and there was certainly a diverse enough selection for Harry to find someone he hadn't yet fucked and take him into a back-room for a bit of tension release.

Harry pushed through several reluctant bodies until he made it to the bar, hoping to find his hot bartender (he'd never even learned his name), but happy at least, when he didn't see him, to find five shots with his name on them, figuratively speaking. He rested, back against the bar, surveying the crowd, until the alcohol began to properly thrum through his bloodstream ten minutes later. He usually wasn't such a lightweight, but he hadn't eaten since lunch. He started to look for a likely bed-fellow, though there certainly wouldn't be a proper bed involved. There weren't any particularly likely candidates near the bar, so after signalling to the bartender and downing one more shot for good measure, he moved into the crowd on the dance floor. 

After several minutes of awkwardly gyrating against some less-than-attractive men (Harry suspected all the good ones may have already buggered off for the night), Harry pushed toward the back of the club – maybe he could find some horny hanger-on in the back he could at least stick his dick in without having to look too closely at.

Rubbing at his half-hard prick through his trousers, Harry prowled through the dark corridor, lit only by the occasional black light spell. He keened his head from side to side, listening for smacking sounds of sex, taking deep draws through his nose of the pungent odour of sweat and musk. He peered through any cracked-open door he could find, looking for somewhere he might join in, or a fellow voyeur in need of some mutual relief. He found the door to the back most room – his regular room – slightly ajar, and was met with quite a sight when he pushed the door open just a smidge further and insinuated himself by the shadowed door frame. The bartender - _his_ bartender, who had given him a blow job two weeks earlier – stood, hands on hips, pistoning his cock in and out of a slighter, blond man's body. The man under him moaned softly, hands braced against the bench in front of him, hips canting back aggressively at each push of the bartender's cock.

"Fuck, Gabriel," the blond moaned, and Harry smiled to himself. So the bartender's name was Gabriel, then. Something about the blond man's voice niggled at the back of Harry's brain as being familiar, but with the alcohol now firmly taken hold of his senses, Harry was at a loss as to why. He continued to watch as Gabriel shifted forward, reaching one hand under the other man's body and moving the other up to his chest, apparently to pinch at a nipple, if the blond man's cry of pain was any indication. But there was pleasure there too, and Harry couldn't help working his trousers open and taking his now fully hard prick in hand, enjoying the almost-dry friction of his clammy hand on the hot flesh. Now he just had to wait for the right moment to insinuate himself into this scenario…

Then Gabriel pulled the back, turning both of them around and sitting back on the bench, so the blond was now perched atop his thighs, bottoming from the top. Harry's eyes moved up from where their bodies joined, up to the blond's flushed pink cock, then all the way up – to Draco Malfoy's face. Starting, Harry jumped nearly a foot back, his backing hitting against the door frame painfully. He bit his lip to conceal his cry.

Not that the other two would have heard anyway. 

"Oh fuck yes, Gabriel! _Harder_ ," Malfoy cried out, arching his back and throwing his head back. Gabriel took no time in sucking and nibbling at Malfoy's exposed throat before grabbing firm hold of his hips so he could drive up into Malfoy in a series of sharply punctuated thrusts. Malfoy gasped wordlessly and closed his eyes, the look of ecstasy on his face going straight to Harry's dick because _Jesus Christ this had to be his first time_. Harry recalled his first time and there was no way it was as good as Malfoy's expression seemed to indicate this was. Or, God, maybe they'd been doing this for weeks? But wouldn't Malfoy have told him…

"Fuck, so good…"

"Told you." Gabriel nudged Malfoy's jaw with chin and the other man craned his head back and to the side, meeting the bartender's mouth in a sloppy kiss, more an exchange of breath than anything else. Harry saw Gabriel's hand drift down to grasp Malfoy's erection and felt his insides tighten as Malfoy made the most delicious noise, gasping into Gabriel's mouth and breaking into a feral grin. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Malfoy smile. 

It only took another thirty seconds watching before Harry was biting his lip again and coming, shooting vaguely in the vicinity of the floor as he kept his eyes firmly locked on Malfoy's writhing form. He watched, mesmerised still, another two minutes as Malfoy continued to ride Gabriel, face etched in concentration, from trying not to come or to finally come, Harry didn't know. An expression of sheer ecstasy crossed his face and Harry heard rather than saw Malfoy come; his eyes remained fixed on his dopey half smile, his now-drooping, sex-sated eyes. If Harry hadn't already come, that look would have done it.

He didn't stick around to watch the aftermath, to see Gabriel come, deep inside Malfoy's arse (unless he was kinky and did it on his face). Instead Harry fled the club as quickly as his orgasm-weak legs would carry him, bursting out into the cool air and drawing deep gulps of it into his lungs. Even after a long career as a back-room voyeur, Harry had to admit that that topped it all as the hottest thing he'd ever witnessed. And he'd seen almost everything, from vanilla to über kinky. But it had nothing to do with the _what_ and everything to do with the _who_ , he realised.

He was undeniably and rather shockingly attracted to Draco Malfoy. But not just that, he was loathe to admit that he _wanted_ him. Wanted him in every sense of the word, from a quick back-alley fuck all the way to a dinner-date/telly watching/lazy Sunday companion. 

***

Percy was barely halfway through his morning cup of tea when Draco burst into his office, a grin stretched wide across his face.

"I did it!" he proclaimed joyously.

"Keep it down - Scrimgeour!" Percy shushed him, glancing furtively at his boss' door. Draco shrugged, pulling a chair from the wall and sitting himself down in front of Percy's desk.

"Tea?" Percy offered, turning to his sideboard tea and coffee station to make him a cup before he'd even answered.

"Milk but no sugar, yes please."

Charming the kettle warm again, Percy made quick work of it, handing Malfoy a steaming mug of tea a moment later.

"Now, you did what, exactly?" Percy asked, glancing at Scrimgeour's door and casting an extra Muffling Charm, just in case.

"I shagged a bloke. Or, rather, he shagged me. It was _brilliant_."

Percy quirked both an amused and critical eyebrow. "Really? That was fast."

"Well, I figured it was best to get it over with. And technically it was someone I met a few weeks ago…"

"Who?"

"Bartender at Knobs & Broomsticks. He was… just amazing. I'm using a Cushioning Charm right now, if you know what I mean."

"Quite." Percy tried to suppress his slight disappointment behind a slight quirk of his lips. While he wanted Draco to go out and get some sexual experience, it was still very weird hearing about it after the fact. And he honestly hadn't thought he'd turn around and get to work the night after they "broke up," if you could call it that. "So, what did this guy look like? What was his name?" Percy began conversationally, leaning back in his chair, tea cradled between his hands. Might as well play the part of confidante if he couldn't be the lover.

"Gabriel. And he was tall, muscular but too much so, dark hair, pale skin. Just delicious."

"Sounds like Harry."

"Excuse me?"

"What you just described – it sounds a bit like Harry."

"Why would you say that?" It looked like Draco was starting to sweat. Now Percy knew he was right, so he decided to go for broke.

"Well, that was my first thought. And, you know, every time we chat he seems to come up. I just think, maybe, that you have a bit of a thing for him."

"I do not! If anything, I'd say _you_ have a thing for him," Draco accused, the sudden shrill tone his voice took on making it hard for Percy to take him seriously. He shrugged. 

"Sure, have done for a while. But that doesn't mean that you don't, either. And I think your thing for Harry is quite different from my thing for Harry."

"What do you mean?" Draco eyed him warily.

"I'd like to do things with him. You'd like to _be_ with him."

"You mean _you_ don't want to be with him?" Draco challenged. "I thought you wanted a relationship."

"Harry has no interest in me, so no point in getting my hopes up." Surprised by his own candour, Percy offered Draco a small smile. Even if he had no chance with Harry, who only just tolerated him, mostly on behalf of his mother, he might as well see that Draco have a real opportunity with him.

Scrimgeour chose that exact moment to burst out of his office, barking at Percy about reports as he barrelled down the short hallway between his office and Percy's. He stopped short as he rounded the corner and found Percy and Malfoy sitting there, tea cups in hand. 

"Mr Malfoy," he said shortly, giving Percy a look that said quite clearly that he should stop dilly-dallying and start doing whatever Scrimgeour wanted.

"Minister," Draco said, inclining his head politely. "I was just going." He pushed his tea cup onto Percy's desk and stood. "I'll talk to you later Percy, yeah?"

"Yeah," Percy answered with a small smile, then braced himself for Scrimgeour's sour mood.

***

With all the work Scrimgeour dumped on Percy, the morning flew by, and before he knew it, it was gone 3. Just as Percy was settling down to his afternoon tea, Harry appeared, as if on cue. He looked incredibly nervous and stood there a minute, wringing his hands, before Percy gestured for him to sit down.

"Hi. I, um, I'm sorry to interrupt you," Harry said, smiling apologetically. "It's just... you're the only one I can talk to, I think."

"Okay, Harry. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please. Thanks."

Percy made a quick cup of tea and handed it to Harry, flashing back briefly on his similar actions this morning. And if he had any luck this would be about...

"It's Draco. Err, Malfoy, I mean," Harry began suddenly.

"Oh?" Percy settled himself down for a long chat.

"Yes. Last night. I, well..." He stopped, searching for the words. "I saw him, in a club, having sex with someone. It was... weird."

Eyebrow arched, just so: "You watched him having sex?"

"It was an accident!" burst out Harry, who quickly blushed and covered his mouth, eyes darting toward Scrimgeour's office. "Is he in?"

"Long lunch. So you _accidentally_ watched Draco having sex."

"Kind of. He was in the back-room of this club I go to, and the door was open..."

"You didn't have to stay..." Percy pointed out sagely though both he and Harry knew that if either were in that situation, they'd hardly turn around and leave. Well, Percy knew that about them both. He reckoned Harry thought it too pure for a spot of voyeurism.

"Well, at first I didn't know it was him. His back was to me, and he was with this bartender I know."

"And then you realised it was him...?"

"Yeah, and I froze. I mean, I was already..." Harry flushed and Percy tried to look open and accepting so he would continue. He also tried not to get hard at the thought. Harry continued. "Well, I was hard. And kind of touching myself. And it just felt better once I knew..." He blanched. "God, this is awful."

"Why is it awful, Harry? There's nothing wrong with fancying Draco."

"Do _you_?" Harry asked accusingly.

Percy sighed. "I like him, yes. But I don't think I fancy him quite the way you do."

"What do you mean?" Harry looked at him warily.

"He's... sweet. Like a kid brother." Not strictly true, but he had to sell this. "I feel like a mentor, not a lover... but you, well, I've seen the way you look at him, and with the way you've invested yourself in helping him... I think you care about him more than you'd like to admit. Not that I understand it..." That at least was the truth.

Harry frowned. "I... maybe," he finally resolved.

Percy smirked in triumph. "I knew it. Here, drink your tea." He indicated Harry's untouched mug, picking up his own neglected cuppa. They sat in semi-comfortable silence, Harry more starring into his tea than drinking it, until Percy glanced at the clock and realised his moment to slack unsupervised would be over soon.

"Listen, Harry," he began, watching as Harry flinched and looked up at him. "I have to get back to work. But why don't you come by later, around seven, say, and we'll chat? I'll even buy you a drink."

"Yeah, sure, Percy. I'd like that. I just can't talk to Ron or Hermione about this... you understand."

"Certainly." Percy gave him a small smile.

"Thanks." Harry didn't smile back. He dragged himself from his armchair and hovered at the door. "I'll see you later."

"Yep!" Percy chirped as Harry turned and left. As soon as he was down the corridor, Percy pulled out a sheet of paper and a quill and starting drafting a note to Draco. It was sneaky, to be sure, but he reckoned it was high time the two of them sat in the same room and talked this over.

***

The corridors of the Ministry were dark and deserted by the time Harry made his way down to Percy's office. Not that he was surprised – who stuck around until 7 on a Friday? Percy's office, however, emitted a pleasant glow of light down the long, dark marble hall and Harry approached with a bit of a skip in his step, despite himself. It would be good to talk this over with Percy, and he wasn't unaware of the irony of the other man advising him on dating Draco when he'd been the one to set the two of them up in the first place. Why hadn't he thought of breaking Draco in himself? 

_Denial_ , said a small voice at the back of Harry's mind, which sounded a lot like that Malfoy inner-monologue he'd seemed to have developed. Well, yes, he supposed he had been in denial. He'd found the other man attractive for almost as long as he could remember fancying boys – since the war, at least – and while he generally found him very annoying, he'd grown to like their lunches. He'd never realised how lonely lunch had been before without someone stealing his sandwiches and prattling on about multi-faceted business structures.

He was warming to the idea of fancying Malfoy, but that didn't mean he was prepared to face him just yet, but there he was, sitting in front of Percy's desk going on animatedly about _something_. Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the door, and would have been half-way down the hallway already had Percy not popped his head up and smiled broadly at him.

"Harry! Hi!" he chirped a little too pleasantly. He'd planned this, the great git... "Come sit down and join us."

Draco turned round in his chair, body tensing when he saw Harry. Oh God, had Percy _told_ him? Did Draco think he was some pathetic _girl_ for liking him? Or a pervert for watching him last night? Harry didn't realise he stood frozen in the doorway until Percy repeated his name, a concerned expression on his face. "Harry?"

"Um, yeah, hi." Harry slinked forward, pulling a stray chair over, but making sure to set it a good three feet away from Malfoy's.

"Hey." Draco smiled awkwardly at him, then turned and gave Percy a look Harry thought said "what the fuck is he doing here?" Harry's sentiments exactly.

"Look," Percy gave a heavy sigh, as he sat before them, looking very serious and professional with his posture straight, hands steepled on the desk before him. "I'll just say it right out. You two are being idiots. Ah, ah!" He held up a single finger in response to Harry and Draco's open, gaping mouths. "No protesting. Hear me out. You two clearly like each other. I mean, Harry – you're watching Draco have sex with other people – and Draco – you're having sex with people who look like Harry. You don't have to be an Unspeakable to figure it out."

"Wait, wait!" Draco interjected, spinning round and setting Harry with a horrified and incredulous look. "You've been _watching_ me have sex!"

"Not on purpose!" Harry tried to defend himself, but it came out sounding ridiculous.

"What do you mean, not on purpose?"

"You keep leaving the door open!"

"Potter, you filthy pervert!"

"Me? What about you?" Harry affected a high, raspy voice. " _'Oh, fuck, Gabriel, give it to me harder, more!'_ For a virgin, you're quite the cock whore, Malfoy."

Face mottled and red with anger, Malfoy spluttered a few times before managing actual words. "You fucking prick!" He lunged at Harry, wand forgotten on the floor, going at him fists balled and legs kicking. They scuffled on the floor in front of Percy's desk, cursing and kicking at each other, but doing little damage, until they were forcibly parted by Percy's Levitating them off and away from each other. He held them each at separate corners of the room, looking between them with an arched look of disdain.

"See? Idiots," he tsked. "Are you going to go at each other again, or can I let you down?" Both Harry and Draco nodded brusquely, and Percy let them down gently with a flick of his wrist.

"Okay, now that that's over with, you two should really talk," Percy instructed, pulling out a rather impressive bottle of Firewhisky and three small tumblers. "I promised liquor, so..."

"You drink, Percy?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"On occasion," Percy answered, small smile turning to smirk. "This particular bottle I took from the Minster's collection."

"Naughty," said Draco, and they couldn't help but all laugh at it.

"I have my moments," Percy agreed, unscrewing the cap and pouring each of them a liberal glassful. They resumed their seats as Percy passed each of them a glass, and Harry snuck several glances at Draco, catching him similarly darting his eyes over for a look once or twice. They both blushed and looked away when their eyes met.

Percy took a slow swig of alcohol and appraised them both. "Harry, I think you should tell Draco how watching him last night made you feel."

Harry nearly snorted into his whisky. "What is this, therapy?"

"Thera-what?" piped up Draco beside him, looking at Harry questioningly, then quickly flicking his eyes away.

"Therapy. Muggle thing."

Percy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I may have watched something called Dr Phil once or twice." He coughed. "Penny made me."

"One of many reasons why you decided you preferred cock, I presume?" Draco quipped, even though Harry was fairly sure he had no idea who or what Dr Phil was. It was pretty funny though, and he couldn't help laughing.

"Oh, yes, one of many," Percy played along, and Harry felt a new wave of respect for him. He was never this much fun at Weasley family parties.

Harry shifted nervously in his seat. "Why do I have to say it? Why can't he start?"

Percy huffed in annoyance. "Fine, I'll do this. Draco – Harry watched you suck me off last week, he was at the door to my office, and I'm pretty sure he got off on it. Then he watched you last night in the back-room with that bartender, and really enjoyed it." Harry wanted to die, but Percy wasn't finished. "Harry – on every date we went on, Draco and I inadvertently ended up talking about you. This is partly my speculation but, well, I think he wanted to get some... experience so you two could..." He coughed. "Draco?"

Harry turned to see Draco's reaction, and just caught him downing his entire glass of Firewhisky. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered under his breath, and Harry felt the air leave his chest. Did that mean it was _true_?

"Malfoy?" Harry said, leaving the question up in the air.

"This doesn't mean I want a relationship," Draco said shrilly, glaring first at Percy, who shrugged, then at Harry.

"Hey, neither do I!"

Percy looked like he didn't believe either of them. Harry wasn't so sure, either, but it sure sounded good. The move to get drunk was starting to look like a good one, so Harry similarly finished off his drink, smacking his lips together as the last drop burned down this throat.

"I think I need to be drunker," Harry said, holding his glass out to Percy, who obligingly refilled it.

"Me too." Draco held out his glass as well, which Percy filled, but far more reluctantly. Harry knew they were both thinking about Draco's tendency to get sick all over everything.

They all three sat there, sipping their Firewhisky and silently scrutinising each other. Percy was a right sneaky bastard when he wanted to be. Perhaps this is why Scrimgeour held onto him, instead of letting him go on to bigger and better things. Bet he did a lot of the dirty work. An image came unbidden to Harry's mind of Percy doing some rather dirty work to Scrimgeour. Already bright red from the drink, the other two hardly noticed Harry's sudden blush, but he could feel the rush of heat to his face, and to his groin. He thought back on Draco giving Percy a blow job. God, that was hot. The kinky and slightly intoxicated side of Harry wanted to suggest to the other two they re-enact the scene for him and, Merlin's balls, he could _join in_... fuck Draco over Percy's desk whilst Percy fucked him...

No. Harry shook the thought away. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Percy clearly wasn't interested – he was basically shoving Draco at him, which, mind, Harry was quite thankful for. Knowing the two of them, it would have taken _ages_ to admit they liked each other. And now... Harry looked over at Malfoy who, with an even paler complexion than Harry, was an even brighter shade of red. In this state, it wouldn't take much to get him into bed. Was it technically taking advantage if they were both drunk? 

But he really wasn't quite drunk enough. He held out his glass to Percy for another refill and tried to ignore the _look_ he had on his face. Like he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. Harry hoped he didn't though. Cause currently he was thinking up a half-dozen scenarios to get Draco into bed that night. Well, a half-dozen minus the threesome idea.

***

_Fourth floor. Doors opening. Going up? Going down. Doors closing_

Harry got into the lift, bracing himself against the wall as he felt a swell of drunkenness overtake him. Man, that Firewhisky had gone to his head fast. Draco clamoured in behind him, landing against the wall with a heavy _thunk_. Harry expected an exclamation of pain, but instead heard a high-pitched giggle.

"Ow?" More giggling. Harry rolled his eyes, now determined to show that he could hold his drink better. He pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned back against the cool metal wall as the doors slid shut.

_Doors closing. Going up?_

"Did you really _watch_ me blow _Percy_?" Draco asked, stressing all the wrong syllables so he sounded like an over-hyped five-year-old.

"Hmmmm," Harry murmured, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, seeking a cool breeze in the small, confined space.

"Did you wank off to it?"

"Shuddup, Malfoy," Harry moaned. He wasn't even hung-over and this was giving him a headache.

"It'd be hot if you did."

Harry heaved his body ungracefully sideways, so he could look bemusedly at Malfoy. His expression must have answered Draco's question, because before Harry could stop him, he'd lunged at the lift panel and pressed the stop button. The lift jerked, dipped and then came to a halt. 

Draco slinked alongside the wall opposite Harry, affecting what Harry was sure _he_ thought was coy but came across as just crooked and a bit silly looking. But no matter the ridiculous look on his face, what he was doing with his hand was far from funny. Draco was moving his hand languidly across his groin, palming at his erection as it strained clearly against his trousers. Harry swallowed, tasting the stale Firewhisky on his tongue, which made him think about Malfoy's mouth, Malfoy's tongue. Malfoy's _taste_. He couldn't help it; he moaned.

"Take it out," Draco rasped, instructions vague, though Harry knew exactly what he meant. Should he? God, _yes_.

Fumbling with his Muggle jeans and pants, Harry took his already half-hard cock in his hand, watching as Draco mirrored the action. It was far too hot and _surreal_ doing this, together, in a lift, in the _Ministry_ , but Harry pushed all that aside, and just starred at Malfoy's pink cock as it disappeared into his fist.

He stumbled across the small space that separated them, flopping himself onto Draco, lips mashing against his jaw, then mouth. First Draco protested at the sudden weight, then hummed contently into Harry's mouth as Harry brought his thigh between Draco's and angled their bodies until their pricks rubbed against each other. 

"Fuck, Potter, _want you_ ," Draco moaned, rutting himself shamelessly against Harry's thigh and groin, as if aiming to get himself off as quickly as possible.

"Mmmmnnnn," Harry murmured, sliding his hands down Draco's thighs and grabbing hold of his buttocks firmly in both hands. Draco squirmed _away_ from him instead of into the touch, not exactly what Harry was expecting. 

"Still sore," Draco explained, relaxing slowly back against Harry's body as Harry moved his hands away from the offending area.

Okay, so no fucking Draco up the arse in the lift. Harry ignored the part of his brain that said _another time, then._ Being a little too intoxicated to be creative, Harry decided rutting against each other until they got off would be perfectly adequate. Not much for a first time together, but, really, how much of this would they actually _remember_ in the morning?

Harry pushed himself up hard against Draco, aligning every body part closer together, shuddering at the feeling of their cocks, the only unclothed parts of them, rubbing against each other. Not quite wet enough for a smooth slide, their cocks dragged roughly against each other, causing both men to cry out at the sensation. 

"Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Draco babbled, lips mouthing wetly against Harry's jaw.

Being intoxicated as they were, and as horny as Harry had been for the last hour, it didn't take either long to come, once Harry finally had the presence of mind to lick his right palm and then manoeuvre it between their bodies. He grabbed both of their pricks in his hand and jerked them roughly, swallowing both their cries in a sloppy kiss. They jerked and shuddered against each other, some come, Harry didn't know whose, soaking through his shirt and sticking it wetly to his belly.

They fell away from each other, landing side by side against the lift wall.

"Wow," Harry panted, the metal of the lift panelling cool against his back.

"Yeah," Draco joined in, chest heaving as they stood next to each other, coming down from their orgasm. Coming down from the whole evening. 

The hot lift air became stifling, as their combined body heat, and all the excess energy they'd just created with their bodies, made it almost unbearable to stay in the confined space. Draco reached over and reactivated the lift, which shuddered before cranking back up again and heading downward once more.

_Going down._

"You know, that white caffè mocha isn't half as good as sex. I mean, not really," Harry mused as a stream of cool air wafted across his brow.

"I know Potter," Draco drawled, a cocky grin on his face. "Better than sex with a women, surely. But nothing to match a nice rough fuck with a bloke."

Harry snorted. "I can just see the advertising: _'Starbucks white caffè mocha – better than (heterosexual) sex!'_ "

"And if they ever come up with a drink that can beat what we just did, they will truly take over the world."

"Long live the evil empire," Harry added, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

"Do you have coffee at your place?" asked Draco from beside him.

"Of course I do. You had some when you were over..."

"Remind me?"

"Are you inviting yourself over?"

"Yes."

"Well, fine... but only if you promise not to vomit on me this time."

"Oh, fuck off, Potter." Though he sounded annoyed, Harry could hear the playfulness in his tone. And just a hint of lust.

 _Going up? Going down,_ intoned the elevator as the doors slid open to reveal a dark and empty foyer.

Definitely going down.

***

"You know, I think you're obsessed with this place."

Harry looked up and couldn't help smiling. He was starting to associate Pret and Draco Malfoy with each other.

"I like the food."

"You have to like more than the food to come here so often," Draco mused, taking a seat and opening his own sandwich box – a tuna mayonnaise to match Harry's, he noticed. "You know, you don't even _like_ working at the Ministry. You should open up one of these places."

"Can't. They don't franchise."

"Aha! So you've looked into it!"

"I visited the website, where it says, loud and clear, that they don't franchise. I didn't go looking for it."

"Bullshit. You know, I bet the only reason they don't franchise is to keep the wizard management and house-elf staff a secret. But you're a wizard and all, so they might make an exception."

"I doubt that's the reason, Malfoy."

"Bet it is."

"Nope."

"Uh, huh."

"Shut up."

"You like it."

Harry laughed. "Only just."

"Are you two bickering again?" Percy appeared, salad in hand and a rather bored expression on his face. He plopped himself down between them and opened his container. Tuna Nicoise. What a tuna-loving trio they were.

"Nah, not exactly," Draco answered. "Just saying Harry should quit the Ministry and take over one of these places."

"But they don't franchise," said Percy automatically, causing Harry to laugh, a deep guffaw that had Draco rolling his eyes.

"Told you so," Harry teased.

"It's quite a fascinating business, Pret-a-Manger," continued Percy thoughtfully. "You know, the entire behind-the-scenes workforce is house-elves, many freed in the wake of the war and finding nowhere to work that would pay them fair wages."

"Well, you know it was a Hogwarts' elf that started the whole thing," Draco joined in animatedly, eyes alight with interest. They prattled back and forth about the Pret business structure, eventually moving on to a discussion on their advertising strategies and how they differed among Muggle and wizard audiences.

Great, now Harry had _two_ economically-minded lunch partners. He sighed, tucking into his tuna mayonnaise, sitting back and enjoying the scene before him. Pret was even better now, with good company.

_Finis_


End file.
